


WOLF PUP }|{ Robb Stark

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A Song Of Ice And Fire by George R.R. Martin, Archery, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, F/M, Friendship, Game of Thrones Spoilers, House Stark, Male-Female Friendship, Miscarriage, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 07:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18686500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔚𝔬𝔩𝔣. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔤𝔦𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔡𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔴𝔬𝔩𝔣. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔞 𝔴𝔬𝔩𝔣 𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔰. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔫'𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔨𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡.""𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪?""𝔑𝔬. 𝔄𝔫𝔶𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔟𝔢 𝔨𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡."______Robb Stark, the King in the North, has declared war on house Lannister.Nyra Blackwood's father is one of the Stark's bannermen, pledging an oath of fealty to Ned Stark, and now to Ned Stark's oldest son. Nyra has no time for a lady's stitching, and would rather be stringing a bow. An odd friendship occurs between her and the Young Wolf after an awkward incident, and maybe something more starts to blossom.But one thing is certain.Winter is coming; and it will show no mercy. Cold and bitter and harsh as it is, and yet the pack survives.





	1. I

She inhaled the fresh, Northern air. Nyra Blackwood sat on her horse, having refused a carriage. She rode alongside her father and brother, catching sight of Winterfell in the distance. The North was large and vast, but it was dreary and cold. Where her house resided didn't have summer snows, but it was colder than King's Landing. Summer was ending, and the harsh winds of winter would soon chill them to their bones.

Her father was fond of the Stark wolves. He had known Ned Stark for years. But her brother, Orwen, not so much. She didn't know how she felt about the house, considering she was only three days old when her father pledged fealty to Ned Stark.

Ned Stark was dead. Everyone knew that by now. Beheaded by the new king's executioner. Ned Stark knew something he shouldn't have known, and he paid the ultimate price. Knowledge is truly power, and power is dangerous.

And now his oldest son was King in the North. What was his name again? Robin? Roman? River? Nyra was always terrible with names. No matter, they were going to meet with the Stark boy and his bannermen.

Her father had told her to look presentable, so she looked as clean as she could. Her hair was tangled and she had bruises everywhere from practicing sword fighting and calloused fingers from archery.

Hours later, they arrived at Winterfell. Maester Luwin greeted the company and led the Blackwoods to the great hall, where the Starks and the other bannermen waited.

"Lord Blackwood." Catelyn Stark said when he and his children entered the hall. She stood up from her seat. "These are your children? They've grown."

Lord Blackwood grinned and snorted quietly. "As children have. You look well, Lady Stark. I am truly sorry about your husband's death. He was a good friend."

"I apologize for interrupting a conversation between acquaintances, but we have more pressing matters to attend to." And there he was, the King in the North. He was a young pup, forced to take over Winterfell after his lord father's death.

Not much of a king, Nyra thought. He was a pretty boy, but she wondered if he'd ever been in a real fight. He looked like he could be decent with a sword, but he was a highborn lad who probably had never tasted blood in his mouth.

"I have declared war on the Lannisters." The pup continued. "You swore an oath of fealty to my father. Would you swear an oath to me, Lord Blackwood?"

Her father paused before speaking. "Yes, Your Grace. I would never betray the Stark family. I have traveled with the finest archers from my house, and we are at your service. The Lannisters are a slimy lot of lions, but they are clever as a fox and richer than the king himself."

Her father introduced her and her brother, and for a moment, she locked eyes with the Stark pup.

She went outside. 

 

Nyra was stringing an old wooden bow. Archery was her speciality. She had been practicing archery ever since she was four, and her father was proud of her.

Orwen stalked towards her, a grim expression on his face.

"Seven hells, what's climbed up your ass?" Nyra asked him, her hands at work with the bow.

Orwen sat next to her. "Father is going to get us all killed, foolishly following that so-called-King-in-the-North."

"I have a feeling father knows what he's getting into." She finished with the bow. "Besides, what's his name anyway?"

"You know father's name."

She smacked him on the shoulder. "No, you dimwit. The King."

"Ow! It's Robb, I think." Her brother replied.

She stood up. "Robb, huh?"

Her brother sighed. "I should be King."

"You would be a terrible King." She simply said.

"Would not!" He protested.

"Would be!" She spat and turned on her heels, heading to the archery range.

She was walking quickly and was not looking where she was going. Her foot caught something and she started to fall, bringing someone down with her. She didn't know who it was until she was on top of them and their faces were extremely close to each other.

It was the pup.

She was silent, embarrassed.

"Are you going to get off me?" The boy asked.

"Uh, yes, of course, Your Grace." She responded quietly, getting up.

He sat up, looking up at her. "You're one of Lord Blackwood's children, right? Nyra?"

"Yes." She swallowed, expecting the worst. In her lifetime, Kings were not forgiving.

"Were you going to the archery range?" He asked, staring at the bow in her hand.

"Yes."

"Maybe you could teach me one day?" He smiled. "I'm not a very good archer."

Nyra smiled back. "Of course, Your Grace."

"You can call me by my first name." He told her.

"Of course... Rohar."

"It's Robb."


	2. II

Nyra pulled back the string, letting it brush against her cheek. She let go and let the arrow fly, missing the bull's eye by a centimeter. She nocked another arrow, pulling back the string and letting it brush against her cheek once more. Before the Blackwood girl let go of the string, a voice peaked her interest.

"I thought you never missed your target." The voice belonged to Robb Stark.

She let go, the arrow piercing the bull's eye. "Sometimes you miss, but you can always try to hit the legs to take an enemy down. That's just as effective." She spotted the large direwolf at the King's side. "And who's this? I don't believe you've introduced me to your friend." She asked, slowly reaching out a hand to let the animal sniff it. "Hopefully he's all bark and no bite. I treasure my fingers."

Robb chuckled and smiled. "His name is Grey Wind." He nudged the wolf gently towards her. "Go on," he told the creature. "He likes it when you scratch behind his ears."

Grey Wind sniffed Nyra's fingers and she stroked a hand through the fur, scratching behind the ears. "Good boy." She looked up to Robb. "Is it true you're leaving Winterfell tomorrow?"

The King in the North glanced down at the ground, biting his cheek and hesitating before speaking. "Yes, it is."

"Promise me you'll keep my brother and father safe?" She asked, still petting the wolf.

"I will, at all costs." The boy replied.

She sighed and withdrew her hand. "I'll be bored without you around, Stark pup. I wish I could come, but alas, I cannot."

His brow furrowed. "Who said that? You're coming."

Nyra was confused. "But I am a lady. War isn't for a lady."

"Nyra, you're easily the best fucking archer here. Who cares if you're a woman? That doesn't matter at all. War is war. It affects everyone." He explained. "I want you to come." He smiled softly. "Plus, you'd make business more fun. You're stubborn, just like my little sister Arya. You and her would get along quite well."

She smiled back. "Thank you, Robb."

"You owe me a lesson later." The Young Wolf told her, grinning.

"Yes, Your Grace." She teased and watched him walk away, Grey wind following him.

 

It had been a few weeks since she left Winterfell. Her family were at the Stark's camp, which would soon be moving to a different location.

Currently, Nyra was watching her brother practice his sword fighting against a Stark soldier. After a few hits with the flat of a sword, he was knocked to the ground and forced to yield. "You're getting better, big brother. Soon, you'll get yourself killed."

Orwen spat at her and she laughed. "You're an asshole, you know that?" He told her.

Nyra laughed even more, some soldiers joining her as Orwen got up. "Nevermind that, Lady Stark is back from Lord Frey's estate. I think we ought to hear what she says."

Orwen and his sister entered the tent just as Catelyn told her oldest son that he would have to marry one of Walder Frey's daughters.

"And he would let us through?" Robb asked.

"And he would let us through." His mother responded.

Robb thought for a moment. "Fine." He agreed.

"Just like that?" Lady Stark questioned.

"If it must be done, then it must be done. It's a price to pay." Her son replied dryly.

The King's mother started speaking. "Lord Frey himself thought that five daughters were suitable for you." The woman paused and continued. "All you have to pick out which one you'd marry."

"Alright. I'll agree to those terms." Robb declared, glancing at Nyra for a few seconds. He then left the tent.


	3. III

Robb Stark had won every battle so far. There was no question that he had a knack for strategy. He was good and sensible with a wooden or a steel sword. He taught Nyra on how to fight with a sword, but she always went back to archery.

Jamie Lannister was their prisoner, their captive. He had already escaped once, killing two men. He was captured and Lord Karstark demanded his head, but Lady Stark denied him. Her son went to surrender at some place Nyra couldn't remember.

War was confusing. War was a game to some. There were so many terms and negations and surrenders and victories and losses, but she knew one thing: Death would catch them all eventually. It didn't matter whose side you were on. No one could evade death. Death could be waiting anywhere at any time. On the battlefield, or in your chambers, or maybe at a wedding. There was one thing you could say to death: not today. 

 

Nyra was spit-roasting meat over a campfire when Orwen approached her. "What do you want?"

He sat down. "Do you think our King's going to return, little sister?"

Nyra ignored him, focusing on her meal. She moved the spit away from the fire.

"I asked you a question. Might do you some good to answer it." He grabbed the spit from her and started eating, chewing loudly.

She sighed, annoyed. "Yes, I think he's going to return. There's your damn answer, Orwen." She started to cook more meat.

"He never brings any girls into his tent with him at night."

"It's not your business, brother."

"He is a King, is he not?" He stared at his sister, who was looking straight ahead. "Tell me."

"Leave him be." Nyra replied.

"Ooh, do you have a crush on the Young Wolf?"

"I do not." She insisted.

"You think he's brave and strong and handsome. He likes you. Any man and woman can see that." Orwen responded.

"He's a friend."

"And he's promised to another." He responded. "It's never going to happen, little sister. Much better for you to realize that now than on his wedding night."

 

A couple days later, Robb returned, heading straight to his mother's tent. Jamie Lannister had escaped, with the help of Catelyn Stark.

Nyra heard them arguing, and a couple minutes later, Robb emerged from the tent, passing right by her. He had a stern expression on his face, silent. 

 

Nyra entered the war tent. Robb was talking to one of the lords. "Stannis Baratheon's fleet heads to King's Landing." The lord explained.

"Apologies, my lords." She interrupted.

Robb and the lord looked up. "My lady." The lord patted Robb on the back, gave him a nod, and left the tent.

Now it was just Robb and Nyra.

"How are you?" She asked.

"How am I?" Robb repeated. "I've had to arrest my mother, the Lannisters have my sisters, and the man who I considered my closest friend has seized my home and my brothers." He exhaled. "I'm fighting a war and I don't know if I should march south or north."

Nyra looked down. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid question"

"No, forgive me." He sighed and sauntered to her. "You meant well."

She took his hand in hers. "I know something that might distract you for a bit. It's up to you if you want to do it."

"And what is that?" He squeezed her hand gently.

"That lesson I owe you."

 

Nyra adjusted the bow for Robb and handed it to him. "Try that. Just don't do it too much without an arrow. That can damage the bow." Grey Wind laid next to the log she was sitting on.

Robb pulled back the string. "Better. Thank you."

"Do you miss home?"

He glanced at her. "Yes. I miss my sisters, and my father, and my bastard brother. I wonder how Bran and Rickon are doing, if they're even still alive."

"They're still alive, Robb. Hodor would protect them at all costs."

His gaze was fixed on her. "Do you miss home?"

Nyra swallowed and nodded. "Yes. I miss my mother most of all. I was six when she died."

"I know what it's like to lose someone you love."

"I know. Ned Stark was an honorable man who shouldn't have dabbled in the business of a King. And now you're Lord of Winterfell and King in the North."

"Those titles came at a price." He simply said. "And now we're at war." He suspired. "Why would anyone want to be King?" Robb asked.

"For power."

"I don't want to be King. I never asked for this."

She stood up from the log. They were deep in the forest. "You, Robb Stark, are the kindest man I have ever met. If anyone deserves to be King, it's you. You have a good heart, I'm just afraid that someday that good heart will get you killed."

"Trust me, I'll be careful."

The Blackwood woman nodded. "You know I'd protect you, right? You're my friend. I'd fight on the battlefield if I could."

"Maybe you can." He grinned.

She smiled back. "Let's get back to our lesson." She pointed to a young tree. "Try shooting that." She gave him an arrow. "Here, I'll guide you."

As Robb nocked the arrow and pulled back the string, the string brushing against his cheek, Nyra helped him steady his aim. They were so close together that her chin rested on his broad shoulder, her body unconsciously pressed against his.

Robb let go and the arrow flew, hitting the tree. He turned his head to the side, not realizing how close their faces were. Her grey eyes gazed into his blue eyes and their lips met, eyes closing slowly. She felt his beard graze against her skin. It was soft and comforting in the midst of violence and betrayals. He pulled away. "Now I don't know if I will ever let you on that battlefield."

"Oh, shut up, wolf pup." Their lips met again.


	4. IV

Her father and brother had gone to war, to fight alongside each other. Before he had left, her father had asked her the words of their house, in which she responded. "The serpent bites back." Nyra had said.

"Good girl," replied her father, ruffling her black hair before he left for battle.

Robb had left as well, leading his men. It had been a few months since their first kiss, and their romantic relationship had grown since that afternoon. She spent most nights in his tent with him. Her brother would tease her about it, considering he had noticed, but she brushed him off.

Catelyn Stark didn't exactly like her. She knew what was going on between the Blackwood girl and her son, but Robb had to keep his word. Nyra sensed Lady Stark's dislike and discontent toward her, and she could not care less. She enjoyed being with him. They made each other happy, and they were closer as friends and lovers. 

 

Nyra was skinning a squirrel she had shot when a solider had shouted that riders were coming. It was Robb and his remaining men returning from a battle on horseback. He was caked in dirt and blood and his armor was tarnished, but he didn't seem majorly wounded or in any pain. She searched for her family, but she could not find them.

Robb approached her, a grim expression on his face. His eyes were filled with sorrow, and he placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Nyra... We need to talk." And she knew that whatever he had to tell her, it would not be good.

 

He led her to the woods, his hand on her upper back. "I think you should sit down for this."

Nyra sat down on a fallen tree and patted the space next to her. Without a word, he sat down next to her.

There was a moment of silence.

"So..." Nyra started. "What do you need to tell me? Might as well get it over with."

The man turned to face her, cupping her face with his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. "I failed you."

"What do you mean?"

There was a pause, and then an exhale. It was almost like a sigh. "I promised you that I would keep your brother and father safe..."

Realization hit her. "No..."

"Nyra... They didn't survive. "I'm so, so sorry."

Hot tears stung her cheeks and left a salty taste on her lips as she started to sob, laying a hand on Robb's. She then pulled away, her face in her hands. Robb rubbed her back, trying to be as comforting as her could. "I'll leave you alone." He withdrew and left, leaving the last family member of house Blackwood to mourn. 

 

That night, Nyra had washed her face, eyes puffy and red from crying. She quietly entered Robb's tent, crawling into bed. Robb was still awake and wrapped his arms around her. She laid her head on his shoulder. He winced, for it was bruised, but didn't say anything. She pulled the furs over her body. She traced the bruise with his fingertips. "Does it hurt?"

"A little."

After what seemed like hours, she finally spoke up again. "You know, it's not your fault."

"I did everything I could." He whispered, his voice soft.

" I appreciate that. You're human, you're not a god."

"I know what it's like to lose a parent." He said.

"When one parent dies, you seem to lose the other."

"You're right." He kissed the top of her head. "I don't want that to be us."

"I don't want you to marry the Frey girl." She commented, laying a lingering kiss on his bruised shoulder.

"I don't want to either."

"Then don't."

"It's not that simple."

"Of course it's simple." She told him. "You follow your head..." She raised her hand to brush a curly lock of hair out of his face. "Or your heart." She lowered her hand from his face to rest on his bare chest.

"Nyra... I love you, you hear me?" He shifted so his body was hovering over her, his hands next to her head. "I love you."

"I love you too, my King in the North."


	5. V

"All men should keep their word. Kings most of all." Catelyn said. "Soldiers don't respect a King who breaks his word. You must marry a Frey daughter."

"No." Robb replied. "I'm marrying Nyra Blackwood. I love her."

"Do you think your father and I were in love when we married? No, it built over the years. It's much stronger than some passion in the woods."

"And if that doesn't happen?"

"You cannot break your word, Robb. Walder Frey is a dangerous man to cross."

"I don't care. I'd rather follow my heart when it comes to things like these. I will not marry one of his daughters."

"But then you would betray him." Catelyn argued.

"Wise words from a woman who set Jaime Lannister free without my consent." He left her at that and exited the tent.

 

Nyra braided her hair and put on her best dress, which wasn't much, but it was comfortable and looked nicer than a shirt and pants. She wanted to look presentable. After all, she was getting married; even if it was just her, Robb, and the septon.

She was sad that her family couldn't attend, but then again, Catelyn Stark wasn't attending for her son. 

 

And there they stood, her hand over his as the septon wrapped a ribbon around their wrists. They were in the woods; fire and starlight lit the scene. They faced each other and started to recite their vows together, gazing into each other's eyes.

"Father, smith, warrior, mother, maiden, crone, stranger..."

"I am yours and you are mine..."

"From this day, until the end of my days..."

The kiss was sweet, loving, and full of hope. It reminded Nyra of their first kiss, so innocent and comforting.

Robb squeezed her hand gently, drawing away from her lips. He beamed, truly happy.


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEXUAL CONTENT AHEAD

He carried her to their tent after the ceremony and placed her on the edge of the bed. Nyra watched as he closed the entrance of their tent for privacy. "Robb..."

"Yes, Nyra?" He got on his knees in front of her, and started to take her shoes off for her.

She started to stroke his hair, her fingers tangled in his curls. "I love you, wolf pup."

Robb smiled. "I love you too. More than anything."

She tugged him up by his shirt and kissed him. He kissed back and pulled her closer, a hand on her thigh. The kiss became heated as the Queen bit down on her husband's bottom lip gently. He pulled away for breath and started planting open-mouthed kisses along her jawline and throat.

A gasp escaped her lips as her deft fingers untied his shirt and pulled it off his shoulders. His fingers were currently untying the back of her dress. She helped him with it and let the dress fall to the floor.

His kisses traveled lower and lower as she laid on the bed. For a man who hadn't been with many women at all, he was certainly skilled with his tongue.

Nyra leaned her head back, moaning. "Fuck, Robb... Kiss me..."

The King in the North lifted his head from between her thighs, crawled on top of her, and kissed her hungrily as she kissed back with heat. She could taste herself on his lips. She pressed her lower half against his and giggled quietly as he let out a grunt. "Naughty minx." He growled.

She flipped them over so she was on top, straddling him. He still had his pants on. She discarded of the pants quickly, tossing them into the pile of clothes that was on the floor.

When she sank down, moans and gasps erupted from both of them. His hands glided slowly down to her rear as she started to move her hips, her breasts bouncing. She started to move her hips faster, and he thrusted up. They cursed and panted each other's name as they moved in unison to a climax.

 

Nyra Stark laid in bed with her husband, completely bare and covered in a thin layer of sweat. Her head was on his chest, her fingertips tracing shapes and words on his skin. Robb had an arm wrapped around her, laying on his back. They both smelled of sex, and she could still taste herself on her lips. "I hope we win this war."

He was staring up at the ceiling of the tent. "I hope so too."

"Do you think we will?"

"The Lions messed with the wrong house. The Starks are as unforgiving as the decade-long winters." He replied.

"So I've heard."

He glanced at her. "I'll kill them all. For you, for my family, for the North." He explained calmly.

"For us." She gently took his hand, kissing the fingers, and placed it on her stomach.

His blue eyes widened, in disbelief. "No..."

His wife grinned. "Yes!"

"How long have you known?"

"A couple of weeks." She responded. "And if it's a boy, I know what we should name him."

"I think the father should have some say in his son's name." He teased.

"Eddard."

He was silent, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His father's death was still fresh to him.

"Wouldn't you like to teach little Ned Stark how to ride horses, and sword fight, and shoot an arrow?"

"I think you'd better give the child an archery lesson instead of me." He chuckled, rubbing her stomach.

"Nonsense, you're getting better every day."

"Mhm, right."


	7. VII

A boat was pushed into the water, floating. The body of Hostor Tully, Catelyn's father, occupied the boat.

Robb walked up the wooden steps and stood next to his mother and his wife. An archer nocked his flaming arrow, and pulled back the string. He let go and the arrow flew, missing the boat. The man nocked the arrow again, and missed for the second time. There was an awkward pause before he tried once again for the third time, missing. Another man grabbed the bow and pushed the young archer aside, aiming for the sky. The arrow swiftly landed on the wooden canoe, going up in flames.

 

Edmure Tully explained to Robb the situation, all the bannermen gathered in a room. "He crossed the river to give battle and we routed him. Maybe 400 Lannisters killed, another hundred taken prisoner, and the Mountain was lucky to escape with his life." He paused. "He will think twice before picking another fight with the Tullys."

Robb started speaking. "Your victory at the stone mill is already the subject of sums across the river lands, uncle. These songs will speed throughout the Seven Kingdoms and hope will spread with them."

"Thousands of North men have already died fighting this war. All that remains for them is justice." Lord Karstark replied.

"That is why we are all here, Lord Karstark." Robb responded, his hands clasped together. "For your sons. For my father. For all those who have died at Lannister hands, and for those who still live under their yoke. I will not stop until they have their justice. This I swear to you."

Lord Karstark nodded slightly.

The King in the North continued. "I need to speak with my family." And with that, everyone except for Edmure and Blackfish left the room. Robb walked over to the window, looking out.

"If I may, nephew, I encountered a situation with one of my lieutenants at the stone mill which may have some bearing." Edmure said. "

"Why don't you shut your mouth about that damned mill?" Blackfish told Edmure. "And don't call him nephew. He's your King."

"Robb knows I've meant him no disrespect."

"You're lucky I'm not your King," Blackfish continued and approached Edmure. "I won't let you wave your blunders around like a victory."

"My blunders sent Tywin's Mad Dog scurrying back to Casterly Rock with his tail between his legs." Edmure argued. "I think King Robb understands we're not going to win this war if he's the only one winning any battles. There's glory enough to go around."

Robb turned his head. "It's not about glory."

Blackfish gave Edmure a told-you-so glance and withdrew from his nephew.

Robb turned and walked to his uncle. "Your instructions were to wait for him to come to you." He was getting annoyed.

Edmure held up his arms, a smug expression on his face. "I seized an opportunity."

"What value was the mill?" Robb asked.

"The Mountain was garrisoned across the river from it. Is he there now? Of course not. We took the fight to him. He could not withstand us."

Now Robb was angry, a sneer on his face. "I wanted to draw the Mountain into the west. Into our country where we could surround him and kill him." He scowled, his brows furrowed in rage. "I wanted him to chase us as he would have done because he is a mad dog without a strategic thought in his head. I could have that head on a spike by now." He spat and then calmness overtook him. "Instead, I have a mill."

Blackfish took a sip from his mug as Edmure told Robb that they took hostages. "Willem Lannister, Martyn Lannister."

The King in the North was in disbelief. "Willem and Martyn Lannister are 14 years old."

"Martyn is 15, I believe." Blackfish added. Edmure was becoming ashamed.

Robb approached closer and closer to his uncle. "Tywin Lannister has my sisters. Have I sued for peace?"

Edmure shook his head. "No."

"Do you think he'll sue for peace because we have his father's brother's great-grandsons?" He asked, anger returning.

Edmure looked down for a moment and then looked his nephew straight in the eyes. "No."

"How many men did you lose?"

"208." His uncle replied. "Of every man we lost, the Lannisters—"

"We need our men more than Tywin needs his!" Robb cut him off, yelling. As Edmure turned away, he stared at him with discontent and complete rage.

"Sorry," was the only thing Edmure Tully could muster up. "I didn't know."

"You would have, right here today at this gathering if you've been patient." He walked away from him.

Blackfish interposed. "We seem to be running short on patience here."

"You know who isn't?" Robb asked. "Tywin Lannister."

 

Nyra was in the company of the two Lannister boys, bandaging a wound for one of them.

"You're Robb Stark's wife." One of the boys remarked.

"Hold still." She told him.

He exhaled. "Is it true what they say about him?"

"I don't know. What do they say about him?" She asked.

"He can turn into a wolf at night." The boy told her, getting a bit excited. He was obviously curious.

"True."

"And he eats the flesh of his enemies."

"True." She simply said.

The boy glanced at his brother.

"You're a Lannister, aren't you?" She asked again.

"Martyn Lannister." The boy replied.

"Martyn Lannister." Nyra repeated, looking up at him. "There's nothing to say. My husband doesn't eat children." She paused. "Unless... It's a full moon." She turned to the guard. "Is there a full moon tonight?" She turned back to the boy. "See? Nothing to fear." 

 

A sword was swung through the air, slicing through the target cleanly. The head of Lord Karstark rolled through the grass. He had slayed the two Lannister boys. Robb had ordered the other traitors to hang. The King in the North's blade was slick with warm, sticky blood. Robb dropped his sword, fists clenched and completely silent as he marched off.

 

"Come to bed." Nyra stood on the other side of the room, a robe wrapped around her body.

"You were right." Robb told her, looking over the large map on the table, pieces positioned. He threw one of the pieces on the floor, a loud clang echoing. "The Karstarks are gone. Almost half our forces. Tywin Lannister knows what he needs to do to make us unravel." He paused, placing his hands on the table. "Nothing. Only wait."

"Don't let him." Nyra wandered closer.

"How can I do that? Attack King's Landing? There's nothing he'd like better. He'd crush us in a day."

"You could ride North," his wife said. "Take your land back from the Greyjoys. Wait out the winter." She went to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Winter could last five years. My bannermen would be home again, sitting by the fire, surrounded by their family, warm and safe. They'll never ride south again. When I gathered my lords together, we had a purpose, a mission. Now we're like a band of bickering children."

"Give them a new purpose."

"What?"

She glanced at the map. "I don't even know where Winterfell is on this map."

He smiled softly and took her hand, guiding it to point to Winterfell. "Here. And we're here. And King's Landing is over there." Realization dawned on him and he let go of her hand, taking one of the direwolf pieces.

"What is it?" Nyra asked.

"I can't force them to meet us in the field, and I can't attack where they're strongest. But I can attack them where they're not." He placed the piece on Casterly Rock. "I'm going to take their home away from them."

"Can you do it?"

"I need men to replace the Karstarks. And there's only one person in this kingdom with that kind of army who hasn't already sided with the Lannisters." He smiled. "The man whose daughter I was supposed to marry." He looked up at her. "Walder Frey.'

 

Nyra laid on her back in bed, wide awake. Her hand rested on her stomach. Robb was asleep on his side next to her, his back facing her as he snored softly.

She wondered about her father and brother, as well as her mother. She missed them. Her brother was annoying at times, but she missed his banter. She missed her father's wisdom and her mother's voice.

And then a sharp pain started to manifest in her stomach, causing her to cry out. She felt a viscous fluid between her thighs.

Robb had woken up, rolling over and sitting up. "What's going on?"

"I-I don't know..." She clutched the sheets.

He pulled back the sheets, his eyes filling with horror and sadness. Blood. "Oh shit..."

She was silent, coming to the realization that she had lost their child.

Robb tried to calm her down, trying to stay calm himself. "Let's get you washed up." He got up and filled a basin with water. He assisted her in getting up from the bed and peeled off her nightgown, setting her down slowly into the water.

He grabbed a cloth and got on his knees, dipping it into the water. He started to wash her nude body, ridding of the blood between her thighs. His touch was gentle.

Nyra was still completely silent as he poured water over her head with his hands. Her knees were drawn up to her chest. She did not cry. By the end of the rinse, the water was red.

He helped her up and dried her off, wrapping her in a robe. Nyra embraced her husband and started to sob into his chest, shivering. He stroked her hair, twirling a lock around his finger. He was mute as well, not wanting to speak.

They stood there in quietude, sorrow enveloping the two.


	8. VIII

Nyra waited for her husband in their tent, wearing only a nightgown and nothing else. The rain had started, but it was soft shower of water. She listened to the pitter-padder of the drops, laying in bed in their tent.

Robb had received a raven, detailing that his uncle was to wed one of the Frey daughters. He knew that he had to go along with his mother. Nyra Stark was suspicious and had no desire to go. It had been a frequent topic of argument between her and Robb. She was still in mourning from losing their unborn child, and she didn't want to lose him too.

When her beloved entered the tent, his curly hair clinging to his skin, she sat up. He was soaked. He smirked slightly, looking her over. "I see that you've been waiting for me, my Queen." 

"And as your Queen, I order you to come to me." She sat on the end of the large bed, watching him as he went to her, his large, rough hands resting on her thighs. She wrapped her legs around him lazily, reaching out a hand to brush the damp locks of hair out of his face. "My King in the North..."

He kissed her in response, his beard tickling against her skin. It was loving at first, but it flowered into a more passionate, heated kiss. He pulled her closer to him and her fingers started to unclasp his wet cloak and untie his soaked shirt. When they pulled apart for breath, she could only whisper one thing. "Don't leave... Please..."

He frowned and bit his cheek. "I must." He withdrew his hands and pulled away. "I cannot miss my uncle's wedding."

"Walder Frey is not to be trusted, and Joffrey wants your head." She stood up, her bare feet touching the ground and her nightgown falling back into place. "Are you blind? You broke your vow and married me instead!" The Queen's voice raised with every word.

"He's still getting a daughter married off!" He snapped back, his brows furrowing. "He let my men through. He can be trusted." Robb replied bitterly. "I've met his other terms."

"But not his final terms. Not what he wanted met the most." Nyra walked over to him, reaching out a hand again to stroke his cheek. "Robb Stark of Winterfell, the King in the North, you must not go."

He turned his head away from her. "Don't."

Nyra's jaw clenched and she returned her arm to her side. "Fine." She paused. "You won't find me waving you off. I'll go find another tent." She left the tent without another word.

Robb turned and rushed after her, going outside. "Nyra, wait! Please!" But she did not answer to his voice.

The cold rain started falling harder now, more unforgiving, and it was the only company the King in the North had.


	9. IX

The sound of laughter erupted throughout the hall, the feast delicious and guests boisterous. People sang and ate. Lady Catelyn Stark watched her son socialize. Robb was laughing with some bannermen. The music was loud and upbeat. She glanced at Walder Frey as he sat upon his throne-of-sorts, watching from a raised platform. Men carried the bride and groom out of the hall.

Everyone was still socializing when the strings suddenly started playing eerie notes. Catelyn Stark instantly knew what they were playing: The Rains of Castamere. The Lannisters' song. She turned her attention to the closing of the doors. 

 

Outside the castle of Riverrun was the camp, which stretched over for a few miles. Soldiers drank ale and sang and shared stories. Nyra stayed in a tent, reading, not really wanting to go outside. She was still angry from last night, and she wouldn't exactly be delighted to see her husband right now. But she still felt bad about how she left him, just like that. What if she was wrong? She would have to apologize, which wasn't the problem. The problem was that she would never forgive herself for being untrusting. She knew that Robb could take care of himself.

And if she was right? That was something she didn't want to think about. Ever.

Yet something felt amiss. Grey Wind was restless, and they had chained up the creature in the stables. She closed her book and got up from her seat. She walked outside of her tent and called for a guard. "Get my horse saddled." 

 

"Your Grace... I feel I've been remiss in my duties." Walder Frey announced, standing up, holding a goblet. He was old and frail. "I've given you meat and wine and music... But I haven't shown you the hospitality you deserve..." He paused and laughed slightly. "My King has married, and I owe my new Queen a wedding gift."

As Lord Frey was speaking, Catelyn looked at the man next to her, Roose Bolton, and noticed he was wearing chainmail underneath his shirt. She started to connect everything. Their eyes locked and the mother stood up quickly, smacking him. "Robb!" She shouted.

Robb turned to face his mother, and that was when men started to get up. Someone pulled a knife, and the entire room transformed into a frenzy, everyone hungry for hot blood and painful death. Almost everything was knocked off the tables as the guests went at each other's throats like a pack of wild, savage dogs, slaughtering. The musicians and men above now had crossbows, aiming for whoever. A couple of arrows pierced Robb's skin, and he let out a grunt before losing balance. Blood started to seep from his wounds.

Arrows. Daggers. Blood.

The cursed lord had an ugly smile on his face, drinking from his goblet as he watched the murderous event unfold.

 

Nyra went to the stables to mount her horse, a hood over her head. She had noticed that there was discord among the soldiers and that Grey Wind was still restless. A group of soldiers wandered over to the stables, all holding crossbows. They aimed the weapons at the direwolf and shot the poor animal. There was a growl, and a whimper followed. She watched with wide eyes. The group then left, leaving the large wolf to bleed out. Nyra was upset that she couldn't do anything about it, but she was in a dangerous position and would not dare to reveal herself.

 

Catelyn hid under a table and crawled from underneath, an arrow in her shoulder. Robb had started to get up slowly, struggling. All he could think of was his wife. Was she safe? Was she dead? He did not know. 

Walder Frey chuckled. "The King in the North arises!"

She pushed herself onto her feet and ran, grabbing Frey's wife and a knife. She dragged the woman away from the table and positioned the sharp knife at Frey's wife's uncovered throat. The crossbows ceased. "Lord Walder! Let it end! Please..." She was breathing heavily. "He is my son, my first son, and my last... Let him go, and I swear that we will forget this. I swear it by the Old Gods and New! We'll take no vengeance." She was desperate.

"You already swore me one oath." The old man explained. "Right here in my castle. You swore by all the Gods your son would marry my daughter!"

"Take me for a hostage!" Lady Catelyn pleaded. "But let Robb go!" She turned to Robb. "Robb! Go! Get out of here! Get up and walk out! Please!" She was on the verge of tears, watching Robb slowly get up from the floor. "Please!" But she knew that Robb would never leave her behind.

"And why would I let him do that?" Lord Frey questioned.

Catelyn turned back to face him and tightened her grip on his wife, allowing the blade sting her skin. "On my honor as a Tully... On my honor as a Stark... Let him go." The woman commanded. "Or I will cut your wife's throat!"

There was halt of sound and movement as Lord walker Frey simply stared at her before answering. "I'll find another."

Robb had finally got up and looked to his distressed mother. "Mother..."

Catelyn turned her head to glance at him, her face contorted in sorrow as she realized that they were completely and utterly doomed.

Lord Bolton approached her son. "The Lannisters send their regards." Lord Bolton then sank his longsword deep into the Young Wolf's heart, twisting the sword through his flesh. Robb stared at him blankly, collapsing to his knees and falling back onto the floor.

Watching blood pool around her oldest and last son's body sent Catelyn wailing loudly in grief. She had lost Ned, Bran, Rickon, possibly Arya, and now Robb. She had failed them. Without thinking, the blade cleanly slit open Frey's wife throat. She let the limp body fall to the ground and just stood there, welcoming death. Someone yanked her by the hair and the dagger sliced through her skin, wet, warm gore pouring out. No, not my hair, Catelyn Stark thought. Ned loves my hair.

And her lifeless body simply collapsed to the bloody, bloody floor.


	10. X

Fire. Bright, hot, blinding fire swallowed the Stark banners. Men raided the tents and killed the others, hanging and cutting. There was disorder and aggravation. There was no mercy.

Lady Catelyn Stark and Robb Stark were dead. Murdered. Murdered at a wedding feast, of all places. Lord Frey had violated guest rights, but he was content with what he had done. It was revenge in his eyes, and revenge was just.

Nyra Stark mounted her horse, riding amongst the fray as fires burned and men were gutted. She had Robb's sword with her.

Nyra heard chanting and turned her head.   
"The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!" Men chanted and mocked, the gate rising. A horse wandered out, carrying on its back a beheaded body, tied to a stake, with a direwolf's head crudely sewn. The fur was matted and it's maw was wide open as the soldiers paraded and cheered.

She covered her mouth with her hand, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. She knew who the body belonged to.

Robb Stark of Winterfell, the King in the North.

Her horse was spooked by the commotion and threw her off the saddle, forcing her to land on solid ground. She landed hard on her back. She would have time to grieve, but not now. She had to get that horse back.

Suddenly, she felt a stranger grab her by the hair roughly. The man dragged Nyra by her hair as she kicked and screamed, struggling and digging her heels into the dirt. He pulled her face up to his. "You're a pretty one, aren't you? Shame we have to kill you. I would've fucked you first, but orders." He unsheathed his blade.

She sneered and unsheathed Robb's sword, impaling the man through the chest. Hot blood spurted on her face and clothes and all over her hands. He gurgled his own blood.

The man let go and she ran after her horse, finally catching up to her steed. She pulled herself up, sliding into the saddle and riding away from the destruction. She had to get away. She didn't know where and she didn't know when, but one thing she knew.

Leave one wolf alive and the sheep are never safe.


End file.
